Diary of Enjolras
by iLikeMuffins100
Summary: What really went inside our Fearless Leader's head before the revolution. Warning for possible OOC-ness. Please don't take it too seriously.
1. Chapter 1

Did I ever mention that I have Enjolras issues? Yeah, He was a jerk to everyone but Combeferre. (Which leads me to believe something was going on between those two!) And I'm sick of the fangirl girl hype. There's better characters! (Like Combeferre!) So here is my parody of him.

If: Metero-Enjy, Enjolras-Bashing, Communist!Enjy, Twiligth-bashing, Unrequited Enjolras/Grantiare, Refrences to slash offend you. Don't read. (PS its really not slashly, Les Amis just tease him)

Sorry if this offends!

Okay, so happy reading!

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May the 24th, 1832

Dear Dairy,

I, Marcelin Enjolras, have decided to keep a log of my days as a humble citizen of France before I was dictator-ahem, I mean 'president'-of France. Why? Because when I'm famous people will want to read my intellectual thoughts. Don't all famous people do that?

Today was a quite so ordinary day. I woke up, brushed my golden locks, put on the Super Vest (it's shiny, like my eyes) went to call, attended and lead political meeting. Meeting went well, expect for that annoying Grantaire. Gosh, he's more annoying than a crazed inspector chasing you for eighteen years. And he's so ugly. I don't like ugly people. I don't want to catch the ugly. I have no idea why he comes. He does not care about my communist regime-I mean, the Rebuplic. All he does is call me pretty (Which I do not deny, I mean, just look at me!) and then insult me! And he smells. Really bad. Just like that creepy girl who follows Marius around.

Well, that's enough for today, I need to get to bed if I want to keep my skin youthful looking.

* * *

More to come!

I realise now I will be forever branded as "The Enjolras Hater" of . I don't hate him, I just think he's okay and I don't understand all the hype.

Please read the rest. and review *hopefully and big-eyed* and please madames et monsieurs, no flames.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay so here's the second entry.

I'm going have to do a disclaimer for this one.

I don't own Twilight (Thank goodness!) that belongs to Stephanie Meyers. I don't own the musical version of Les Miserables, the belongs Boubil and Schonberg. Um…wait I also mention RENT (Jonathan Larson), Wicked, Godspell (Steven Swartz) and In the Heights (Lin-Manuel Miranda-whoo! I'm seeing it next month *happy dance*)

And oh, there is a small pot reference in this entry, so if that offends don't read. Sorry again.

On with the dairy!

Dear Dairy,

Combeferre was telling me I need to be more relaxed. I'm apparently too tense. Honestly, how am I tense? That's how you get frown lines! The nerve of that boy. Joly told me that I'd get high blood pressure too. I just told him that his girlfriend is fat. (She is! She's like, a size six!) That shut him up. Then, philosopher-boy told me it's rude to comment on a woman's weight.

"It's also rude to tell your best friend he's 'too tense'!" I told him

"Dude, I'm just trying to help you out!" He said.

"'Dude'? What are you, some sort of pot-head surfer?"

"Enjolras, just get over it." He rolled his eyes at me. At least _my_ eyes are prettier.

Then, annoying-as-Hell Grantaire started talking about some really stupid vampire novel. It's called "Twilight".

"He's so gorgeous! And he sparkles!" He exclaimed.

"Hey nobody sparkles but me!" I yelled at him.

Then, there was dead silence. Well it's _true._

"Team Jacob!" The usually Feuilly yelled from his emo-corner.

"La-La-La!" Marius strode in.

"Marius, you're late." I scolded him.

"What's wrong today? You look as if you've seen a ghost." The hypochondriac asked/sniffled.

"Some wine and say what's going on!" The Twi-hard suggested.

"Can you stop quoting the musical?!" Bahorel asked.

"You're just jealous that they forgot you." Coufeyrac snickered.

"Our musical wasn't even that good. RENT is so mush better." Feuilly told the group. He said like two sentences today. That's a new record.

"I like Godspell." Jehan told us.

"I've always liked Wicked." My ex-best friend said.

"Does anyone else here like In the Heights?" the baldie asked.

"Can we stop discussing musicals and start planning this revolution?" I yelled at them. They silenced. "Alright then. Men lets-"

"Oh my gosh! I just met the most beautiful girl ever! I'm in love!" Marius so rudely interrupted me.

"Aw, shoot!" Joly sighed.

"Haha!" Bahorel laughed.

"Aw, here's my twenty." Coufeyrac also sighed.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked them.

"We were taking bets on who'd come out first, you or Marius. Since Marius is in love with a girl, Combeferre, Feuilly, and I won." Bahorel told me.

"What, you think I'm gay?" I asked them.

"Well, yeah. You obsess over your vests, you highlight your hair, you wear really tight pants, and you aren't into girls." Am I really that metero?

"And Marius perms his hair, he looks like a girl, and he sings tenor." Coufeyrac told us. *insert glare-o-death here*

Why do I even bother with them?

Then some little street kid came in. Ew. I hate children.

"General Lamarque is dead!" he cried. Finally! That oldie has been knocking on death's door for like eternity.

"Alright so on his funeral, let's lead an armed revolt throughout the streets."

Combeferre began to speak. "Well, that's my brother's wedding and I'm his best-" I glared-o-deathed him. He quieted down.

I smiled. "So June Sixth it is."


	3. Chapter 3

I'm baaaaaack! with another entry!

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Dear Diary,

I've been thinking about my 'republic", and I've deiced to outlaw ugly people. And Twilight books. Nobody sparkles but me. We'll all wear shiny red vests, have flawless skin, everyone will be just like me; perfect and gorgeous. Just not as gorgeous as me, that would be impossible. Speaking of my gorgeousness, Grantaire was telling me about some Greek myth where this guy was so obsessed with himself, he fell in love with himself and stared at his reflection until he died.

"Like I'd do something that stupid." I told him. Then he just stared at me. "What?" I asked him.

"You're pretty." He answered.

"I know that." Gosh, he really does think I'm stupid! "Alright men, you here thinks I'm self-centered?" I asked the group.

Jehan meekly raised a hand. "If we tell you the truth, will you promise not to glare-o-death us?" He whimpered.

"I promise"

"Okay." He replied. They all raised their hands.

I glare-o-deathed them. The men whimpered.

I love myself.

* * *

Wow. That was short. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Dairy,_

_Happy start of the barricade day! I'm so excited. The turn-out was great. Some creepy boy showed up though. He kept asking where "Monsieur Marius" was. I told him, " he's probably somewhere making out with Ursula, or Cosette, or whomever." The boy began to cry. I didn't really care since, he was ugly. He'll be outlawed soon._

_Joly's sick, but isn't he always? Grantaire is drunk, so he probably won't bother me too much. Combeferre kept nagging me about killing people BLAH BLAH BLAH! Why did I pick a philosopher for a best friend? *Note to self: Outlaw philosophy in the republic * _

_So Marius came and threatened to blow up the barricade with himself on it. I think that boy has finally cracked._

_Oh, so that boy I was talking about isn't a boy after all. Its that creepy Eponine girl that stalks Marius because she's in love with him. She took a bullet for him and died in his arms. Oh, and it also conveniently rained. So then I made some speech about how we will fight in her name, blah, blah, blah. It made me look good._

_Oh yeah so Prouvaire is missing. So is Bahorel. I sense those two have been doing things they shouldn't be doing. Oh scandalous!_

_We got some spy guy. He has fuzzy sideburns. Some old guy wanted to "kill" him for us. I sense more scandalous behavior._


	5. Chapter 5

Well, this is the final entry, so you guys know what happens next to our Fearless Leader.

Thanks to y'all who have been reading and reviewing this! *hugs them* You guys are the best!

On with the diary!

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Dear Diary,

Well, eh, looks like the barricade is failing. Prouvaire is dead. Combeferre was very upset over it. I sense something was going on between those two. Oh scandalous! Bahorel is dead too. Too bad, he was in favor of a communist regime. Combeferre is now dead too. Along with Courfeyrac, and Joly, and Lesgles, and Feuilly, and we can't find dolt boy.

So I'm now in Le Musain, with the wine cask and a bunch of men with loaded guns. And you know what's even worse? Grantaire is holding my hand. Ew. He probably has Fish Flu*. And ugly flu. What if it spreads to me? Well it'll all be over in a few moments. Just smile and look pretty. That's it Enj, smile and look pretty, you're good at that.

You know what confuses me? How I am able to write this in this situation. Death is such an enigma.

Oh, by the way, that rumor about Eponine and I, never happened.

Same with the one about me and Combeferre. Even though he is very attractive. And he has great abs and-

Well, here come the bullets.

Ow.

Bye!

Enjolras

* * *

Okay so that's all, unless you guys want me to do an entry from heaven or the final when they all come back miraculously and sing that reprise of DYHTPS.

*Fish Flu, is the fish version of swine flu according to Libyan leader Muammar Qaddafi.


	6. Chapter 6

This is the final final chapter of Enjy's diary. Hope you liked it! Special thanks to BlacknSilver32, Mam'zelleCombeferre, and DansforthsChild for being awesome reviewers *hugs*

Disclaimer: So Hugo's been dead for awhile, but Boubil and Schonberg aren't…and I;m not them…I also don't own Heaven or God, that belong to God...and if I claimed to be God, I'd be a heretic. And The Vest belongs to Enj.

Warning: If you find the mention of Heaven (especially Christian ideas of Heaven) offensive or any of Enjolras' "predictions", sorry…I really don't mean to offend anyone.

* * *

Dear Diary,

Well, it looks like it wasn't good bye after all. Prouvaire was right, there is a Heaven. So I'm currently in it. My new angel status matches my face of an angel. And my angelic voice, which I apparently have to use soon because some guy is dying and we have to sing about climbing to the light or whatever. It's the old guy who was supposed to kill Le Fuzzy Spy, who I thought he was going to screw, but as it turns out he let him go free. And then Fuzzy jumped off a bridge. How ironic. How do I know this? Well Le Fuzzy is in Heaven (I think is name is Spanish…Javier maybe?) And he NEVER SHUTS UP. He talks every waking moment. He told us his life story on how he was born in a jail and he chased the Old Guy for like 18 years over a loaf of bread. He also told us his hobbies are reading (but he hates books…) and knitting. He also enjoys Italian pastries, alpacas, and petting his cat, Monsieur Mittens. Then he started ranting about astronomy or astrology, or something about the stars. Oh, and he made the mistake of telling us he's a Gypsy. Grantaire asked him to dance for him. Winecask was slapped by Le Fuzzy.

Well, as it turns out Le Fuzzy can't make Oldie's funeral. He works in the jails of Purgatory. God thought it would be a thing for him to do. He said the law was his life. Weirdo. My beauty was my life.

*a little bit later*

Oh crap, Pontmercy is here. Apparently, Oldie's his father-in-law. Hope he doesn't see me. Yet again, I am hard to miss. *hair flip*

Prouvaire was all like "why isn't a priest here giving that man the Anointing of the Sick?" As it turns out, Oldie thinks a priest is already there. Sorry Oldie, you're getting a toothless whore and a guttersnipe instead.

"What are you writing?" Combeferre asked me.

"My diary." I answered.

"That's good to hear! You must be getting more sensitive and relaxed from it!" He told me.

"I don't need to be more relaxed! And sensitivity is for pansies like Prouvaire!" See, at least I'm manly as far as my emotions go. Prouvaire began to cry. Combeferre comforted him. They are sooooo sleeping together. (oh, scandalous!)

"GUYS! SHUT UP! We're about to sing. Now we're starting acapella, so listen carefully for your pitches!" Feuilly got out his pitch-pipe and blew a few different pitches. I never new Poland-lad was so musical. But, I guess all emos are. So I sang beautifully and so full of passion, as always. And might I say, I looked quite dashing. I got to wear the Super Vest again.

I love my dead self.

* * *

Alright so that's it! Thanks for reading y'all! I hope none of y'all found this offensive or too mean toward Enjy. I really do like him, but like Marius, he's easy to mock.


End file.
